


Recoil

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Series: Killing for Love [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jason fidgets in the elevator ride down. Cass stares straight ahead, but he knows that she's seeing everything, processing every moment. It's just what his sister does when she's angry.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recoil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arielchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arielchan/gifts).



When it's done, the bodies crumpled on the floor between them, they don't look at each other.

Jason does a sweep of the office while Cass watches his back. They exit the same way they came in, the way that the plan dictated they should: the front door. They head down the hall, left, left, and then they're at the service elevator.

Cass pushes the button. Jason looks at the blood smeared across the blade in his hand, grimaces, and wipes it on his thigh, first one side and then, slightly higher, the other. The red won't show on the black, and proper cleaning will have to wait until they’ve found somewhere safe to hole up. He sheathes the knife just as the service elevator announces itself with a ding.

Jason fidgets in the elevator ride down. Cass stares straight ahead, but he knows that she's seeing everything, processing every moment. It's just what his sister does when she's angry.

He's seeing everything too, if everything is a repeated playback of his knife disappearing into three different suit-jackets, straight through the ribs and into the heart: beige, navy, and black with charcoal pinstripes. 

The goal had been to take down all three threats in under a minute, and he'd managed it in fifty-seven seconds. He didn't feel proud, not one bit, even though mom had said he would. He doesn’t feel satisfied in his job well done.

Just as Jason's stomach begins to churn, Cass reaches over to take his hand. She squeezes it, and he catches her eye. Jason's smile is sad, sick; Cass's smile is in the softness of her gaze.

Her eyes dart back to sharpness as the elevator reaches the basement, giving a dull ping that would be inaudible if they had been talking. But they aren't; it's just them holding hands, and Jason breathing deeply through his nose to try to get the nausea under control.

Cass gives a gentle tug to the right before they begin walking, so Jason follows her. The escape plan is left-right-right; Cass's route is right-left-right-left-left, and they come out onto the street through one of those odd one-way doors that buildings which sprawl across whole city blocks tend to have.

There is a getaway car waiting for them in the parking garage two blocks to the north.

Cass heads east.

A block away, Jason ends up in a surprisingly clean alley, bent at the waist and throwing up. It’s on the wall, on his shoes, dripping down the nearby drain into the sewer tunnels. It was delightfully spicy curry when he ate it, but now it's just spicy putrid yellow chunks for the city vermin, and his throat and nose burn, and his eyes water.

But there's always Cassandra, always his sister, standing to the side and leaning over at the waist, her chest to his back, her arm over his chest, her face pressed against his shoulder. She says nothing, but sometimes Cass just doesn't talk. It's normal.

When Jason finishes, Cass offers him the tiny bottle of water she keeps in the inside pocket of the jacket she's wearing. It’s warm from her body, and Jason takes it and swishes his mouth out, spits at the drain. She touches his face as he hands it back, fingers trailing across one cheek. It means _I love you_ and _are you alright_ and the slight quirk of her lips as her hand returns to her side means _we should go_.

"Really think we're ready?" he asks, giving her his best smile, but knowing it's coming out crooked. 

They're kids, barely past their eighth birthday; where are they even going to go? He doesn't know, but he knows he can’t leave Cass, and she won’t leave him. They have to stay together, where Mom taught them they’re the strongest and the wholest, and he knows that’s the best chance either of them has anywhere.

Cass knows it, too. That little squeeze to his thumb means _yes_.

They lace their fingers together again, and this time they decide where to go for themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there is more coming.


End file.
